


Casual

by Touch_of_Moonlight



Category: Original Work
Genre: Achromatopsie, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 00:44:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7868494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Touch_of_Moonlight/pseuds/Touch_of_Moonlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine a world where sexual intercourses are regulated. A world where before your majority you can't have sex with someone of the opposite sex. Welcome to Terra Nova IX. </p><p>Between the Red District and the great buildings, follow Annabelle in her new life...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casual

In my purse, an envelope full of cash remind me I did not got out of my bed for nothing today. I got fired this morning.  
In the subway on my way back, someone insulted me. Well insulted may be a bit exaggerated. Some say an insult can be considered as such only if it doesn’t fit reality. I think back on the subway guy. His big and hooked nose, his too short and sullied white tank short revealing a prominent belly. But most of all, his inebriated breath, smelling like cheap wine.  
« _Fat ass_ »  
Granted, my ass is mostly made of fat. Like the most parts of my body, I’m fat. « I am fat ». This thought makes me shudder.  
As if I needed a reminder. As if, every morning while looking at my reflection in the mirror I could forget that the borders of my body were threatened to be overflowed by this flabby substance called grease.  
The subway finally stops, it’s the last stop. Damn it. I missed my stop. I was supposed to change line five stops ago. I go down on the platform, look around. I don’t recognize anything. “Great, now I’m lost. “, I tell myself wondering how worse could this day get. I look around, the platform is empty and the subway is already gone. I close my eyes and try to slowly inhale in order to calm my nerves. I smell the pungent smell of urine assaulting my nose. It’s suffocating. My legs move on their own and before I realize what I’m doing, I’m running. Somewhere, anywhere, out. Finally, the doors open and I stop to breathe in the fresh air, process the noise, but most of all adapt to the darkness. Opening my eyes, I see light at the end of the street. I grip the front of my collar, lower my head and begin to walk toward the light. Maybe I’ll find a map or something. I cross a couple of dark alley and fasten my pace. Maybe in the light I will recognize a place or something. Under the light, I decide to go down the boulevard, nothing catch my eyes. I cross the street, turn right and bump into someone. Eyes still fixated on the ground, I hasten to raise my head to apologize. I meet a pair of chocolate brown eyes, topped with high eyebrows and an impressive amount of foundation. I try to utter an apology but the words are stuck in my throat. My eyes widen the more I take the image given by the person in front of me. Her hair, falsely brown, are curled up and fall beyond her shoulders, she wears a gleaming white dress way too short for the frisky night, on top of which she has a leopard jacket in faux-fur revealing one of her bony shoulders. I begin to positively panic, trying to stammer my apology, eyes back on the ground and cheeks aflamed. Eyeing around, I notice cars packed irregularly along the sidewalk, women inclined over the passenger windows. They are all dress more or less like the woman facing me.  
And then, it strickes me.  
The Red District.  
« _Alors ma mignonne, on s’est perdue ?_ ».  
Her voice is eerily deep. Just like she was trying to whisper, but her voice is too deep to produce the expected result.  
Seeing my confusion, she grabs my arm and repeats, in the common tongue, with a strong accent: « Are you lost? »  
I try to think fast, and think about the safety regulations I was given 3 months ago on my arrival.  
**Rule #31: Never admit that you’re lost.**  
I give her a tentative smile : « _Bien sûr que non_ », given my strong accent, I repeat in the common tongue, with a bit more confidence : « Of course not ! ». I take her hand off my arm and fake a calm I don’t feel : « I apologize for bumping into you. I hope I didn’t hurt you ».  
The sincerity of my words surprise me. I still feel anxious. She laughs raucously.  
« Don’t worry Darling, I’ve seen worse». She smiles and take a step back.  
« But given the time, and seeing your pretty face, either you’re lost, which at this hour could be really prejudicial for you, or you know exactly what you want, and you are exactly at the right place.»  
I gulp. Shit, shit, shit. What about this people, with the lost ones? Just what I needed to end this day, a one on one with a psychopath. I think hard. Then comes an illumination.  
« Of course I know what I want. » I smile innocently. Or the more innocently I can manage given the circumstances..  
« I’m looking for a man for the night. It’s my first time here and I don’t know where to go. Maybe you know some place? »  
I’m satisfied with my excuse that explains both my presence here after the curfew and the lost look on my face. I authorize myself a second of mental fustigation on my politeness, so inappropriate in this situation.  
She gives me a once-over, a smirk spreading on her face.  
« Oh, you’re one of those…».  
I don’t understand what she’s talking about. One of what ? And then, it hits me. Yes, she means straight. And underaged.  
**Rule #46: By Royal Decree, on this planet, sexual intercourse between a male and a female is strictly restricted to breeding purposes.**  
And then I remember the particularity of the inhabitant of this planet: given an ancient Royal Decree, all sexual intercourse between a man and a women are forbidden before the legal age, set here at 23. I was fascinated to learn that over the time, all minors had legal homosexual relationships, called “Alibis”, and that by the end of their 22nd birthday, those Alibis were meant to be dissolved, and people married.  
Crap. Of all the things I could have said.  
A bit defensive, I narrow my eyes: « Got a problem with that ? »  
Her smirks shift in a smile that spread to her eyes, reveling slightly yellowed teeth.  
« I don’t, but the Militia does. »  
I hold my breath.  
**Rule #66 : NEVER, under any circumstances, face the Militia.**  
My interlocutor seem to find my rapidly paling face and lack of oxygenation hilarious.  
« Ah, Barbarians… »  
Shaking her head, she opens her purse and give me a card.  
« Here, you should be able to find what you’re looking for. Say Giséla sent you. The patron is a… friend. He knows how to be discreet».  
Whatever it was, something seems to have dampened her mood, and her eyes are now glassy and unfocused, probably seeing images of the past. I take the card and thank her for her advice. I read an unknown address on the card and sidestep the woman, Giséla, to pass. I haven’t made three steps, that she heil me, saying:  
« If I were you, I’d go the other way around. Go up the street, turn right, and it’ll be the third building on your left. » Crossing the road in her strange swaying walk, she waves back at me.  
« I hope you’ll enjoy yourself tonight kiddo! »  
Following her directions, I switch on my feet and head opposite, seeing Giséla leaning over a car, watching me with an enticing smile. I break eye contact and rush into the street she indicated me.


End file.
